


Archeron Sister Fluff

by PropShopHannah



Series: ACoTaR/ACoMaF prompts and asks [6]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Archeron sister fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:16:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PropShopHannah/pseuds/PropShopHannah
Summary: Anonymous said: “Fic where nesta and feyre keep making fun of elain for being embarrassed about having sex with lucien. The archeron sisters really need some more bonding moments please.”This gets a little angsty.





	

“Stop blushing,” Nesta said, taking another sip of her wine. Elain fidgeted. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. So you had sex. It’s not a big deal.”

“She’s right,” Feyre said from the other end of the couch.

“Listen to your sister,” Nesta said, tipping her wine glass in Feyre’s direction. “She was rutting around with Isaac Hale before you or I had even discovered the opposite sex.”

Feyre and Elain burst into laughter.

The Archeron sisters were spending the weekend at Rhys’s cabin in the mountains. It was late at night, and the three of them sat around the living room in their pajamas, drinking wine. Feyre and Elain were tucked into opposite corners of the couch, while Nesta lounged in an armchair by the fire.

It’d been a long time since they’d shared a moment to themselves. A long time since they’d all been happy in a room together. A family.

“You laugh like it’s funny. It was traumatizing,” Nesta said.

“ _You_ were traumatized?” Feyre said. “How do you think I felt?”

“Oh, no,” muttered Elain. “She knew didn’t she?” Feyre turned to Elain.

“Of course she knew. Nesta knows everything.” She took another sip of her wine. “After my first time, I remember walking into the cabin, and the first person I saw was Nesta. And I knew she knew, because she had that look. The one with the steely eyes–”

“Where her nose sticks up slightly into the air?” Elain said, giving her best imitation of Nesta. Feyre howled with laughter.

“That’s it!” They both turned to their older sister, doing their best impression of her.

“I do not look like that,” Nesta said. “I look like this.” She gave them her accusatory, I-know-your-secret look. They all burst into laughter.

“I was so worried she’d say something to father, I barely slept,” Feyre said. “I didn’t regret it though,” she added.

“Why not?” Elain said. Feyre shrugged. “I needed it, needed something, a way to escape.”

All three sisters sipped their wine. A moment passed.

“He was kind to me. Took only what I offered. It was the first thing I remember that belonged to me.” She shook her head as if clearing it of the memories. “I know that might sound silly.”

“It doesn’t,” Nesta said. Elain and Feyre waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.

“It wasn’t my first time… _doing_ things with a boy,” Elain said. That got Feyre’s and Nesta’s attention. Elain blushed. Feyre thought the color on her cheeks resembled roses at dusk. A perfect match to the golden brown of her hair, her eyes.

“Graysen?” Nesta said accusatorily.

“We never, you know–”

“Had sex?” Nesta gave her a wicked grin, glancing at Feyre.

“Yes,” Elain said, noticing the look that passed between her sisters. “We just did _other_ things.”

“Ooh,” Nesta said. “The plot thickens.”

“Nesta,” Feyre warned. The eldest gave her youngest sister an innocent look before taking another sip of her wine. “Go on then.” Feyre had the distinct impression that Nesta already knew what Elain was about to say.

“There was this one time, in the garden. He kissed me”–Nesta snorted–”then, I let him put his hands on me. _Over_ my dress.” She took another sip of her wine. “Then this other time, I let him untie my bodice.”

Feyre gave Nesta an oh-my-gods-she’s-so-innocent look. Nesta chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, hiding her smile. Elain took a long sip of her wine–

“ _And then this one time I let him slip his hands under my skirts and I put mine under his trousers._ ” She buried her reddened face in her wine glass. Nesta and Feyre both gaped at their sister. “Say something,” Elain said.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged shocked looks.

“Did you like it?” Feyre blurted. Elain gave a small nod. Nesta threw her head back and howled with laughter.

“I came,” Elain said with a laugh, spitting her wine everywhere.

“I should hope so,” Feyre squealed. “Who would have thought? _Elain_ Archeron, daddy’s favorite, lifting her skirts for a lord’s son _before_ marriage.”

“How scandalous,” Nesta added. “What would the neighbors think?” They laughed for the next few minutes. Then refilled their glasses.

“What about you,” Elain said to Nesta after they’d regained their composure. “Did you ever _do_ things before you met Cassian? You were engaged to be married once.”

The air in the room stilled. The scent changed. They all smelt it. Nesta’s lips paled as splotches of red crept up her chest toward her neck. Nesta was too tipsy to keep her scent shielded, keep her emotions in check. And Feyre– _she knew._

Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the secret that Nesta had been keeping. Knew because she’d met Tomas, had seen him around. Had seen how he’d looked at women–felt that disgusting, entitled, sickening gaze creep over her own body on the occasions when she was unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with him.

The scent in the room changed again, and Feyre realized that Elain had put it together, too. Feyre thought it might have been the first time she’d ever scented an angry Elain.

She glanced sidelong at her sister. But Elain was staring at Nesta.

“I knew it,” Elain whispered, tears building in her eyes. “After you went to the wall. Your dress, your face.”

Nesta swallowed deeply, then downed her glass of wine.

“It was a long time ago,” Nesta said.

It didn’t matter. Feyre knew it didn’t matter how long ago it was, or what the circumstances were. It happened, and it was wrong. And it happened–

“I knew he was just like our father. That he would never have gone across the wall to save Feyre. But I, too, needed an escape I suppose. So I let myself believe that he was the prince–come to whisk me away from my miserable existence. But I knew he was nothing of the sort. I always knew–”

Feyre held her breath as a few tears fell from Nesta’s eyes. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen Nesta cry.

“After I knew I couldn’t get you back,” she motioned to Feyre, “that I wasn’t strong enough, that I’d let myself become as lazy and pathetic as our father–content to sit back and let us all died–I ended it with him. Gave him back the ring. He didn’t like that. He attacked me. I fought back. He–” Nesta chewed on the inside of her lip again. She did nothing to wipe the tears away. “He tried to rape me.”

Feyre stared at her sister. From the look on her face, Feyre thought it might have been the first time Nesta had ever uttered the word aloud. She didn’t know what to do, what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Elain said.

“Don’t be,” Nesta shot back. “It was my own fault–”

“No. It. Was. Not.” They both looked at Feyre–who was now standing. “Tomas Mandry is a filthy piece of rutting garbage who doesn’t deserve the air he breathes. You are not to blame, Nesta.” Feyre tried hard to reign in her anger, the hurt she felt for her sister. “You couldn’t be.” She felt the tears slide down her face. “You couldn’t ever be. Do you understand?”

Feyre walked toward Nesta.

And maybe it was the wine, or the late hour, or the nostalgia, but she said, “Nothing. None of it was your fault. And no one blames you, okay?”

And Nesta knew they weren’t just talking about Tomas. Knew she needed to put her walls back up, to stop the feelings, the pain, the truth…

“But I was such a bitch for so long,” Nesta said, voice breaking. She didn’t want to look at her sister, didn’t want to feel. But Feyre moved, sitting on the thick arm of the chair and putting her arms around her sister.

“It’s not your fault,” Feyre said through her tears. “We were children, you were a child.”

Nesta couldn’t remember if she’d ever hugged Feyre. Didn’t know if she should feel uncomfortable by the affection. But then Elain sat on her other side. Then Elain wrapped her arms around the both of them.

“We all had a role to play,” Elain said quietly. “You are our big sister, you carried the anger for the three of us. Feyre, provided for the three of us. And I…I kept a stupid garden.”

“That’s not true,” Feyre said. “You kept the peace. Between Nesta and I, between father and Nesta, between– _among_ all of us. You kept us from killing each other.”

“I should have done more,” she said.

“It’s easy to say that now,” said Nesta quietly, relaxing her hold on her sisters. “But we all did what we could. We stayed together the only way we knew how. I owe you both an apology, but you, Feyre, I owe you the most.”

Nesta sat up and turned toward Feyre. Feyre shook her head.

“No, you really don’t. I don’t remember our mother. I don’t know what it was like to live with a father who sat back and let her die. I only knew the father who sat back and let us starve. You were a child. _He_ was the parent. It was _his_ responsibility. Not yours.” Nesta wiped her tears, composing her face. “And no matter how wicked you think you were, no one deserves what Tomas tried to do to you.”

“I know, but I am sorry that I let my anger consume me. That I became no better than our father.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Elain said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do more to help you, Feyre. I’m sorry I didn’t try to save you when you went over the wall. I’m sorry to you, Nesta. For not saying or doing anything when I knew you’d been hurt. When I knew you’d locked yourself in your room all those weeks because you couldn’t get out of bed.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Feyre whispered. They both looked at her. “I should have made you come with me that day at the house.” Her lip wobbled. “Az-Azriel said the queen’s had a way to shield their castles, he said he thought the power might be used to shield soldiers. I should have made you come to Velaris with us.”

“It’s my fault, Feyre. Nesta only stayed because of me.”

“But I told Ianthe–”

“Enough,” Nesta said, standing. “This is ridiculous.” She turned around and made a show of refilling their empty wine glasses. “We could go on and on all damn night about who should be more sorry, or who is it blame.” She set the bottle down on the table and draped herself out on the couch like a queen might on a golden divan. “Honestly, I’m not sorry about being turned Fae. Sure, it was traumatizing. I died. But I’m not going to complain about it for all eternity. I feel as if I belong in this body, with this power.”

Elain snorted and slid into the cushion of the chair. Feyre threw an arm across the back of it.

“Of course you do,” Elain said. “You’ll never have to scowl again now that you can just hurl fireballs at anyone who pisses you off.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nesta said.

“A toast then,” said Feyre, raising her glass. “To being remade as our once worst nightmares.”

Elain raised her glass, “to being remade as sisters.”

Nesta raised her glass, “to being remade as a family.”

They clinked their glasses and drank deeply.

“Now,” Nesta said. “Elain, I believe you were just getting to the part where you were going to describe–”

“In detail,” Feyre added.

“Lucien’s male parts.”

“I most certainly was _not_.” Elain squealed, looking thoroughly embarrassed and offended.

The room devolved into a fit of laughter.


End file.
